The hit list
The good news first . . .
My oxblood lilies are coming up! M. at Zanthan gave me about 20 bulbs way back in early May. It was already hot then, and I didn’t feel like digging them in, so I kept them in a paper bag in my greenhouse until we had a surprisingly cool day on August 30. (I never thought I’d write “cool day” and “August” in the same sentence unless I’d been in Maine or Colorado.)
Is anything more marvelous than pulling brown, lifeless-looking lumps out of a bag, where they’ve been baking in 100-degree temps for months, sticking them in the ground, and then, just a week later, seeing green sprouts marking the spots where you dug? Pure garden magic! Thanks again, M. I’ll post more photos as they start blooming.
Now for the bad news . . .
My beloved vitex (Vitex agnus-castus) has been labled invasive by the City of Austin’s Grow Green guide. Vitex has never showed up on that list before, but I just picked up a new edition, and on the back page, under the boldface heading “INVASIVE PLANTS TO AVOID,” vitex had found its way onto the hit list.
Not that I’m about to have it whacked. Though I grow mostly native plants (native to central Texas, that is), I’m no purist. I chose to plant my non-native vitex right out front because I love its purple flower spikes, enjoy its unique leaf shape, valued its toughness and drought-tolerance, and knew it would quickly grow to shade my front windows from the blistering western sun but wouldn’t get so large as to shade out the whole garden.
Now I find out that it’s trying to take over Austin’s preserves and greenbelts. The city guide claims that its berries are easily transported long distances (OK, mockingbird, the gig is up)—i.e., out of my garden and into natural areas where native plants are struggling against more-fecund invaders. I’ve already been feeling some guilt over my one nandina, also labeled invasive by the Wildflower Center. And so it is. I’ve seen its ilk growing freely along hiking trails on the greenbelts, brought in by some berry-stuffed bird and thriving without so much as a by-your-leave. I know I should rid my yard of this nandina-menace, but I can’t bring myself to do it. It fills an empty spot on the side of my house and helps disguise the A/C unit. Plus it never requires water, not even in a drought like this summer’s. It’s hard to off a useful plant like that.
Just so, my vitex will stay off my hit list, so long as it pays me off regularly in usefulness and beauty. But I will no longer be recommending it to other gardeners or clients, just as I wouldn’t recommend brutes like chinaberry, kudzu, or ligustrum. And when the day comes when the vitex is no longer earning its keep, I’ll have it whacked without remorse. I’ll bet a Mexican buckeye would look great in that spot.
I think we should rename the oxblood lily “the phoenix flower” for its ability to rise from the scorched earth of a Texas summer.
I must have a cursed vitex–or maybe it’s just under the curse of the rest of my garden, too much shade. It is the most anemic looking plant that you can imagine. And what sun it did get managed to burn most of the leaves. I watered it just because I thought it was a goner. It’s hard for me to imagine that you don’t water yours and it remains that green on the west side of your house. The next time you’re over you’ll have to tell me if mine’s really a vitex or just some plant imposter. Invasive? I can’t imagine it.
My post confused you: it’s actually the nandina that I never have to water. The vitex gets watered, along with the rest of my garden, every 10 to 14 days in the summer months. Although I have seen vitex do very well in the medians along MoPac with no supplemental watering. –Pam
I love vitex too. I have had one every place I’ve lived and fully intend to plant one at the new place. I have seen them in the wild but not very often.
I actually rather like nandina too. I also used it to hide the a/c but this time I’ll look for something else.
I’ve seen vitex growing along the shores of Lake Travis, hugging the rocky cliffs. Many times I’d marveled at its ability to grow right out of the limestone, but I hadn’t thought about how it had gotten out there, or whether it was displacing native plants. Sigh. –Pam
This is disconcerting, Pam! I have one Vitex at this house, and planted a couple at the last house, too. I thought Vitex was wonderful at the other house, because 1] the deer didn’t eat it, 2] the scent helped to protect nearby plants that were more vulnerable to deer, 3] the flowers were such a wonderful cool color, 4] I like to make plant communities, and the Vitex was the pioneer. I planted them first, in concert with Texas Mountain Laurel and Rosemary then once those tough guys were established, I expanded the bed in stages. The Vitex lightly dappled the sun for small, slow-growing plants [many of them natives], and also helped with the wind. The other house was on a hill, with a canyon in the back – the wind would whip the plants around while vanishing the mulch. So I thought of Vitex as a nurse plant for my mostly native, deer-resistant drought-tolerant landscape!
We had a vitex (and a Texas pistache) that had to be cut down to make way for our addition. The pistache was really in the wrong place for its size and shape but the vitex I loved. I kept it trimmed up and it had such lovely curvy trunks. I felt guilty about cutting it down but now, voila, my guilt is gone. I was doing the natural world a favor (but I did love those flowers).
But surely that picture of your vitex was not taken recently! Mine only bloomed for about 6 weeks in, as I recall, May and June.
You’re right, and I should have noted that below the photo. This picture was taken one spring a couple of years ago. The vitex is considerably bigger now. While it’s covered in blooms only in late spring, it does bloom sporadically all summer, mostly at the very top of the tree, which I can see from my upstairs windows. –Pam
I don’t think Vitex is very common here, but I saw one in bloom at a local horticultural park and was very taken with it – as were the butterflies and bees!
I had no idea it would grow as far north as New Jersey! —Pam